


The Ghosts of You (They Keep Me Awake)

by DawnieWrites



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Sense8 (TV), The Avengers (Mentioned) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Sense8 has given me ALL of the feels, allusions to torture, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-19
Updated: 2015-06-19
Packaged: 2018-04-05 04:11:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4165311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DawnieWrites/pseuds/DawnieWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She doesn't know how long they have her before the hallucinations begin, but they're a welcome change to everything else happening around her. So she does what she always does: she goes with the flow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ghosts of You (They Keep Me Awake)

**Author's Note:**

> Posting this before I change my mind.
> 
> So this was written in less than a couple hours after binge-watching all 12 episodes of Sense8 yesterday and falling in love with it. I didn't feel a need to write the actual characters so much as just an undying need to /write/ in this verse. So have some future-ish AU fic. May play around with these characters more later.
> 
> Un-beta'd so all mistakes are my own.

_It’s time…_

~*~

The headache comes a few days after they lighten her sedation and it’s all that she can do not to scream at the sudden, blinding pain. There is a woman suddenly standing next to the cot she is lying on, her skin the color of burnt caramel and her hair three shades of fire. Her expression goes from surprise to concern in an instant when she notices sweat on pale skin and trembling limbs, but before the beautiful stranger can say anything, she is gone just as suddenly as she came.

~*~

She doesn’t know how long she’s been drifting in and out of consciousness before she opens her eyes to the smell of fish and salt-water, a cool breeze tickling her cheeks as the world sways around her.

“Holy shit!” a female voice yelps. She turns her head to find the beautiful woman standing frozen near the edge of a boat (they’re out on the water, she realizes, that’s what the swaying is), fishing net caught in two hands. “A-are you alright?” she stutters, the net falling from her hands and fish slapping wetly on the deck of the boat.

“Where is this?” she croaks.

“Just outside Loutro; just off Crete.”

“In Greece?”

“ναί,” the woman confirms. She smiles wearily.

“Always wanted to see Greece,” she mumbles as her consciousness fades again.

~*~

The men in black Kevlar are back again. She’s tied to a chair again, arms behind her back this time as they ask their questions. One man gets impatient, cocking back a fist, and she tenses in preparation for the blow.

“Relax,” a voice orders. Her whole body suddenly goes limp, head snapping in the direction of the punch the man in Kevlar had thrown. It doesn’t hurt as badly this time. There is a brown-skinned man in jeans standing just behind her to her left, watching her carefully. “Good,” he comments. “Don’t tense when they hit you. Relax into the blows; move with them. They will do less damage that way.”

“Who are you?” she slurs.

“Who we are is not important,” the man who had hit her snarls. The man behind her frowns and she realizes that she is the only one who can see him.

“I am Karmel.” He catches sight of something that she cannot see and his frown deepens, “I wish that I could take from you the pain that they are about to bring to you.” He apologize before he disappears.

“S’okay,” she murmurs before someone grabs her face to make her face forward again, squeezing her cheeks to force her mouth open. She sees a flash of silver and squeezes her eyes shut, picturing green grass and cool breezes.

~*~

She opens her eyes to quiet stillness, cool stone beneath her. Kneeling bent over next to her is a man whose face she cannot make out. He is kneeling on a prayer rug, his lips moving in silent prayer.

“A mosque?” she mutters, mostly to herself. The man startles at the sound of her voice, but does not interrupt his prayers. Once he is finished he sits up straight and looks her over.

“You look quite exhausted,” he observes quietly.

“Being held prisoner will do that,” she quips; they’ve been letting her sedation wear off more and more – something about how perhaps she would be more compliant in their ‘interviews’ if she wasn’t stoned out of her mind. “Where are we?”

“Emamzadeh Saleh,” the man informs her, rolling up his prayer rug and getting nimbly to his feet.

“In Tehran?” the man nods. “These…aren’t hallucinations, are they?”

“No. They are not. Can you stand?”

“No,” she admits, “but it doesn’t matter. They’re coming back for me again.”

~*~

Medb shows up as she is trying to eat the small amount of food they have provided for her with clumsily wrapped hands. The woman is slim, with mousy blonde hair and piercing green eyes and admonishes her in gentle Gaelic when she sees her hands, plopping herself down on the cot next to her and taking her hands gently in her own to wrap them more carefully so that she is able to eat better.

“You’re very good at that,” she notes. Medb only smiles sadly.

“My mother was very clumsy,” she remarks sarcastically. They fall silent after that as she eats.

“Vasyl is trying to work up a plan to get you out of here. But none of us know where ‘here’ is,” Medb informs her.

“You’re not the only one,” she croaks out, lying back down on the cot. Medb rearranges them so that her head is in her lap, slim fingers combing through tangled brown hair. “I don’t know how long I’ve been here.”

“Well, we’ve been sharing and visiting with each other for about…two weeks now, I think?” Medb informs her, “and you’ve been in here that whole time.”

“Was here before that,” she reveals, eyes drooping shut. She falls into restless sleep and wakes up alone when the men in Kevlar dump a bucket of freezing water over her head.

~*~

“Do you like it?” Henri asks, watching her swallow carefully.

“It’s very good,” she assures him, “it’s been a long time since I’ve eaten anything that good.” Henri frowns at the reminder of her captivity and she smiles gently. They are sitting on the daybed in Henri’s small studio apartment and he is feeding her. She had shown up in the middle of the room shortly after being returned to her cell wet and cold and hungry and tired just as he was putting the finishing touches on a new recipe he was testing and he had offered her some without even a second thought.

“You know that we are coming for you, right chérie?”

“It’s a nice thought,” she admits dreamily, sinking back into the plush cushions.

~*~

Vasyl helps her escape. It’s odd, the feeling of being both in your body and not, watching as another person moves beneath her skin. Vasyl works her arms free of the irritating ropes. He is the escape artist, capable of getting out of any bind – literally. He and Karmel both help to guide her out of the room and down the hall, towards the compound’s motor pool on legs that are far sturdier than her own and with fists that are far stronger.

“Not that one, the other one,” Alaqua corrects them, pointing to an all-terrain vehicle in the corner. “It’s a safer bet since we don’t know where she is.”

“I can’t drive it,” she states, “weak. And tired.”

“That’s alright,” Alaqua soothes, hair shining like oil, “leave the driving to me.” Alaqua’s hands are quick and sure as they get the ATV started and speeding towards the exit. There is shouting and gunfire, but Vasyl and Karmel and Roshan are all there to help her stay calm and not panic as the bullets go whizzing by. They make it outside and she can’t help the sharp cry of surprise that escapes her lips at how _cold_ the air suddenly is and how bright everything is. Once she is no longer blinded by the brightness, she realizes that it is only bright because there is snow everywhere. A _pop_ followed by a loud _bang_ has Alaqua swearing and Karmel takes over to help her relax, jumping from the out-of-control vehicle rather than being thrown from it. She lands in a rather large snowbank and rolls over, breathing heavily and staring up at the sky.

“Outside,” she breathes, laughing nervously, “I never thought I’d really be outside again.” She distantly realizes that there are tears sliding down her tears.

“You have to stay awake,” Medb snaps at her, no heat behind her words, only fear. “Your friends are coming for you.”

“My friends are right here,” she laughs happily, squeezing her eyes shut against the cold as she starts shivering. “My family.”

“Your _other_ friends are coming. Glykeria, tell her she has to keep her eyes open!” Another woman is pleading with her now to stay awake, to keep her eyes open, and she just smiles, letting the cold sink into her bones as the world explodes around her. There’s the rustle of fabric and she opens her eyes a fraction to catch a flash of red out of the corner.

“It’s alright,” a familiar voice soothes, hands brushing over her forehead. Something heavy is placed over her and she has the sensation of being lifted. “Everything is going to be okay now, Darcy…”

~*~

The first thing she notices is the smell. The room she is in smells too clean to be anything other than hospital. The second thing she notices, the steady beeping of a heart monitor, confirms it for her. She has the sensation of being watched and, with much effort, peels her eyes open to find a very familiar red-head sitting in a chair across from the hospital bed that she is lying in.

“How long?” she croaks quietly. Natasha doesn’t answer; instead she chooses to stand up and retrieve a cup of water with a drinking straw for Darcy to suck on. She repeats her question.

“Two months,” the red-head answers calmly. Darcy nods, closing her eyes and reaching out. “You have some impressive friends.” Darcy’s eyes snap open before she can finish and Natasha nods to her other side. She rolls her neck so that she can look and her eyes widen in surprise when she spots Medb, hair caught in a loose bun at the nape of her neck and looking utterly exhausted, sprawled in an armchair asleep.

“You – you can see her?” Natasha merely nods and Darcy chokes back a sob that is just loud enough to have Medb stirring to wakefulness. Her eyes fall on Darcy and she shoots straight up in her chair.

“You’re awake,” Medb states dumbly. Darcy nods and suddenly they’re all there. They are smiling – or as close to smiling as Vasyl gets – and ignoring the sheen of tears in all of their eyes. “We weren’t sure that you were going to wake up. You had us worried.”

“I’m okay,” she assures them, reaching out a hand. Medb takes it, squeezing firmly as the others crowd around, finding seats on the bed or standing as close as they can get, and Darcy has to remind herself that Medb is the only one who is physically here, the only one that Natasha or any of the others will be able to see. As badly as she wants to hug each and every one of them, she doesn’t want to be declared insane. “But what I don’t understand is how you’re here? Or how I’m here.”

“As I said,” Natasha replies, “you have very impressive friends. One of whom somehow managed to send Stark a very loud, very obnoxious tip as to your location.”

“Medb?”

“Roshan,” she supplies.

“Okay,” Darcy accepts, smiling at the Iranian man. “That still doesn’t explain how you’re here?”

“My father,” she answers softly. Darcy’s eyes widen in realization and she uses every last bit of energy she has to pull the other woman to her, enveloping her in a hug.

“Thank you,” she whispers in her ear as the others gather around them and they become a tangle of tight limbs and uncontrollable tears.

~*~

It’s another half a day before she is up for visits from the rest of the Avengers and Jane, but Medb is with her even when she isn’t in the room. She handles the heroes’ visits with good grace, but nearly breaks into tears all over again when Jane practically throws herself at her upon entering the room, shaking and crying and apologizing.

“Jane, Jane look at me,” she orders, voice soft but firm, borrowing a tone well used by Glykeria in her day-to-day activities, “it was my choice. And I would make it all over again if it means knowing you will never have to go through what I did.” Jane’s tears stop after that and they spend the rest of her visit in comfortable silence.

It’s another week before she can get out of bed. Another two after that before she’s allowed to leave the Tower.

~*~

“I’m not going back to Ireland,” Medb informs her three days before her planned departure date.

“Where are you going then?” Darcy asks, blinking dumbly.

“I was thinking it might be time for a proper family meeting,” she replies slyly, “paid for by my groveling father, of course. You up for it?” Darcy smiles widely in answer.

~*~

Darcy is sitting on the bow, legs dangling out over the water, staring up at the clear night sky, when Glykeria finds her. She sits down next to her, thighs touching, and Darcy leans into the other woman.

“Nightmares?” the redhead asks.

“No,” Darcy answers honestly, “just thinking.”

“About what?”

“Stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?” Glykeria asks teasingly. Darcy smiles softly, reaching over to twine their fingers together.

“C’mon.” She spins around, feet planting back on the solid deck of the boat and tugging Glykeria after her. “Let’s go back to bed.” They head back downstairs, where a pile of warm blankets and throw pillows and even warmer bodies is waiting for them. Darcy stops for a moment, taking in the sight.

Alaqua is curled in on herself slightly, facing Karmel, one arm outstretched so that their hands are resting one on top of the other, her hair pulled back in a neat braid. Karmel is held in Henri’s loose embrace, back to front. Roshan is snoring slightly, fast asleep on his back with his limbs sprawled out, one hand resting with his fingers curled against Henri’s back, one foot resting in the crook of Medb’s neck; the blanket he had been using has slipped from his shoulders to his waist, revealing his bare chest. Medb is curled up in the protective cocoon of Vasyl’s arms, forehead against his chest. Darcy smiles, releasing Glykeria’s hand to take her abandoned place in the center of their nest-bed of blankets and warm, curling up next to Roshan and resting her head on his shoulder. Glykeria crawls in next to her, flopping over onto her stomach and throwing an arm over Darcy’s waist.

“Thank you,” Darcy whispers into the silent darkness, “without you all, I don’t think I would have been able to handle any of it. So thank you. For being my Cluster.”

~*~

Watching the eight men and women sleeping peacefully, Riley Blue smiles with tears in her eyes.

‘ _Sleep well, my children_ ,’ she wishes upon them, reaching out for Will’s hand, ‘ _no Whispers shall visit you in this life_.’


End file.
